


Bitter

by agent_florida



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/agent_florida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bitter wouldn’t win the war.” And the Freelancer program was a bitter pill for many of its soldiers to swallow. High spirits, high jinks, and high expectations all collide, and everything goes downhill far faster than anyone could have predicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rules of Engagement

“Manda!”  
  
Amanda Clearwater could hear her sister’s voice ring exuberantly through the house, but she wasn’t particularly moved to stir from her desk. She was feeling a little more bitter than usual, wrapped up in memories she would rather forget. “Can it wait? I’m busy,” she lied.  
  
“No, it can’t wait! You have to see this, Manda!” And suddenly she was bursting through the doorway to Amanda’s room, her brown hair flying behind her in curled tangles, her eyes bright with mirth. The grin on her face looked like it hurt, it was so genuine. “Look!”  
  
And suddenly, Miranda’s left hand was shoved into her sister’s face. It took Amanda a few moments to see what she was supposed to be looking at, but once she noticed, she couldn’t help but smile back up at her sister. “Is this what I think it is?”  
  
“Yup,” she confirmed. “Bona fide Earth diamond and gold recycled from Reach.” She wasn’t doing a great job keeping the smugness out of her voice. “Can you believe it? He finally asked me!”  
  
“Can we keep the hertz and decibel levels down, please? I’m happy for you, but not that happy.”  
  
“You could try.” She frowned as she pulled back her hand.  
  
“Oh, please, anything but the death glare!” Amanda joked as she caught Miranda’s glance. “Fine. I’ll play along. How did Jimmy ask you?”  
  
The blush rising on her sister’s cheeks told Amanda everything she needed to know. “That’s between him and me. Private.”  
  
She raised an eyebrow at the unintentional pun. “Really, Mirri, what will you tell your children!”  
  
“Duh.” She closed her eyes and raised a finger in a lecture-like manner as she recited. “When a man and a woman love each other very much…”  
  
“Or a woman and a woman.” Their mother Chris had stepped into the room without either of them noticing.  
  
If possible, Miranda now looked even more embarrassed, lowering her hand slowly. “I’m sorry, Mom, it’s just… heteronormativity is so easy, and…”  
  
“You’re forgiven.” From the tone of her voice, though, she wasn’t going to be so lenient in the future. “I could hear you shrieking from the garage; I’m just glad you’re not hurt. Now, what’s this whole ‘man and woman’ business about?”  
  
It only took a few moments for Miranda to explain to her mother what had just happened. Meanwhile, Amanda was lost in her own world of thought. This was what she had come home for? Her tour of duty had ended just in time for her to watch her sister graduate from college with top honors from her ROTC program, but she hadn’t realized that Miranda had fallen in love with her sergeant, or that he would have asked her to marry him before his own tour of duty started. It made her wonder, if she had gone to college instead of going straight into the military, if she would also be so fortunate right now.  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
Tuning back into the conversation, Amanda just shook her head. “I don’t know, Mom. Do you really think she’s ready for this?”  
  
“I’m still here, you know,” Miranda pointed out, sounding a little hurt that she was no longer the center of attention.  
  
“I think it’s up to her,” Chris said warmly, a smile attempting to stick on her face. “If she feels comfortable marrying a man, then I guess nothing I have to say is going to change that situation.”  
  
“You do realize that marriage is more than just the wedding, right?” Amanda pointed out to her sister.  
  
“Manda,” Miranda sighed. “You just can’t stand that I’m happy, can you?”  
  
“I just want you to be realistic, that’s all.” But Amanda could tell that, like always, it would be an exercise in futility. So instead of launching into the diatribe she wanted to unleash at her sister, she instead reached over to pat at her thigh awkwardly, putting a smile on her face. “Sal would be so happy for you right now.”  
  
“You really think so?” When Miranda’s eyes met hers, they were sparkling with more than just glee.  
  
“I really think so,” Chris reassured her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, don’t cry. This is you being happy, remember?”  
  
“I just… miss Mummy sometimes,” she admitted.  
  
“I think we all do.” Amanda was twirling the ring she always wore on her right hand. It had been one of the few things Sarah Clearwater had left to anyone, but she had left it to Amanda. It was her one tangible reminder of that dark time for her family. She had passed away when Amanda had been about to graduate from high school, throwing their small family into a world of debt, grief, and confusion. Taking the lead from Chris, who worked as a Command officer for simulation troopers, she had signed up for the military, giving up her dreams of being a pediatrician in exchange for the pay and combat medic training that the Marines could offer her. Some days, Amanda couldn’t help but feel resentful and hurt that Sal had left them the way she had, but they were all trying their best to support and love one another, and maybe that was all that mattered.   
  
However, their reminiscing was broken by a series of short raps at the front door of their condo. “Clearwater residence?” an official-sounding male voice asked over the PA system.  
  
Amanda got up without thinking, bumping into her mother on her way to see who was at the door. She called back a short “Sorry” before activating the PA on her side of the door. “This is the Clearwater residence. Who is this?”  
  
“Ma’am, I’m with the ONI, and I’d like to have a word with your daughter.”  
  
It was strange how that one sentence sat so poorly with her mentality. First of all, she was only twenty-five; was she really old enough to be a ‘ma’am’ by now? Second of all, why was the Office of Naval Intelligence wanting to get in contact with her? And lastly, did she really sound that much like her mother? “Right away, sir,” she responded automatically, her brain still whirring as she opened the door.  
  
Behind the door was a man with dark skin, dressed in full dress uniform. Before Amanda had the chance to formally invite him inside, he was walking through the doorway. Chris and Miranda were making their way out of Amanda’s bedroom and into the common space of the house, where the official was already making himself at home on their couch. “Sir,” Chris said, looking appalled that he had invaded their home without an invitation to enter. “What do I owe this pleasure to?” She certainly didn’t sound pleased.  
  
“Ah, Mrs. Clearwater,” the official said, his voice sickly-sweet. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind us chatting with Miranda for a few moments.” It was a statement, not a question. For her part, Amanda was shocked. She had assumed that he had been here to talk to her. What in the world could he want with her baby sister?  
  
Chris nodded politely and made as if to leave, but before she exited the room, she laid a hand on Amanda’s shoulder and whispered into her ear. “I don’t know what that man is here for, but it’s between him and your sister, whatever it is.”  
  
“I want to stay and listen,” Amanda hissed back, indignant that once again she was being left out of major life-changing events happening in her family.  
  
“Well, stay or don’t, just stay out of it,” Chris told her. Then she swept away, back up the stairs, trying to send a message to her younger daughter that it would be all right to talk about whatever was necessary; she wouldn’t be listening in. Amanda, on the other hand, glared fiercely at her sister before retreating to the kitchen. She pretended to get herself a glass of water, but really, she wanted to be able to overhear the conversation going on in the other room.  
  
“Please, have a seat,” the officer requested. Amanda could hear the springs on the couch protest as Miranda sat down next to the officer. As she peeped around the door frame, she could see that her sister looked nervous; her eyes were wide and panicked, the green in them plainly visible as she looked directly at Amanda’s hiding place, looking for comfort in an uncomfortable situation.  
  
“Feel free to relax,” the officer said again, and Miranda’s attention snapped back to him. His butter-smooth tones appeared to soothe her a little. “We only want to ask you a few questions.”  
  
“What do you need to know?” She spoke a little too quickly, her panic evident, and Amanda mentally chided her for letting her inexperience show. Then again, what did she have to be afraid of? What was it about her sister that would attract so much attention from brass?  
  
“Sergeant Mendez has spoken very highly of you,” the officer mentioned, his handsome brown face unreadable.  
  
“Yes, I suppose he has,” Miranda said quietly, dropping her gaze to look at the new sparkling ring on her finger. He’d better have spoken highly of his new fiancée, Amanda thought. After being her ROTC recruitment officer, he would best know her strengths on the field (and, not wanting to think about it, she admitted he’d know her off the field as well).  
  
“He reported to us that he allowed you to play a support role during an officers’ scrimmage match. Can you explain to us how that happened?”  
  
Miranda’s eyes widened again, snapping up to look at the officer questioning her. “Sir, if that wasn’t allowed, I didn’t know,” she said quickly. “Mendez told me it wouldn’t be any trouble…”  
  
“The rules certainly allow for recruits to be used during scrimmages, Private Clearwater.” Once again, the colored officer’s voice was able to calm Miranda. “I’m more concerned with the circumstances. Can you tell us why Sergeant Mendez selected you to participate?” Amanda, still listening in, wanted to know herself.  
  
“Sir…” Miranda started, but faltered.  
  
“Please,” the officer said again in those warm tones. “You can drop the formality. I just want you to be as clear as you can.”  
  
“Yes, sir. Yes,” Miranda corrected herself. She took a deep breath, and when she spoke next, Amanda was glad to hear her voice had relaxed a little. “Mendez had promised my class of recruits that whoever placed well enough with sniper round scoring would be granted an apprenticeship session with one of the officers during the scrimmage match. It was supposed to encourage us to stop being so reliant on our battle rifles and get more comfortable with other UNSC gear.” Amanda watched a smile spread across her sister’s face as she once again dropped her gaze to her hands. “I don’t mean to brag, but I got the spot with three perfect targets.” Amanda felt her eyebrows raise in surprise. Her sister, a perfect shot, first try? This evidence of a lethal killer didn’t mesh well with the image of the slightly ditzy little sister she knew.  
  
“Can you describe what happened at the match?” the officer asked when Miranda paused in her story.  
  
“Mendez told me that I would be matched up with another sniper for a few hours’ worth of an apprenticeship, like I said,” Miranda explained. “The day before the scrimmage, he got sick, and so I had to just take his place. It was a standard simulation match, an incapacitation party scrimmage – I don’t know how they got the right narq darts for the rifles. Mendez set me up on a ridge, told me to stay hidden, and if I saw anyone, shoot ‘em.” She sighed and shrugged. “By the time he and the other ground gunners got to the other base, they told me there was no one else to get because I had pegged ‘em all.” Amanda was sure her mouth was gaping open. How come her sister had never told her this story?  
  
Once the officer was sure Miranda had finished, he prompted her to speak yet again. “I’m told that, after this, Sergeant Mendez allowed you to shoot a Stanchion. Is that true?”  
  
“Yes,” Miranda confirmed, a grin spreading across her face. “I don’t know where we got it – or how we could afford it – but Mendez insisted that I should be allowed to experience the best the UNSC had to offer.” If Amanda had been shocked before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Her baby sister had handled a Model 99, the military’s most advanced sniper rifle, before she was even shipped out to active duty? It was almost unheard of.  
  
“Thank you for answering our questions.” The officer’s smooth voice was soothing Amanda this time. “I want to get to the real reason why I’m here. I am the counselor for a project scouting for talent like yours. Now that you’ve confirmed these… anecdotes for us, we’d like to extend to you a special offer for…”  
  
Amanda couldn’t take it any more: she broke her cover and strode into the room, making no effort to mask her anger. “Combat Medic Clearwater,” the Counselor noted with some surprise. “Please, have a…”  
  
She cut him off. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” She didn’t wait for her request to be approved. “My sister has just graduated from college and from her ROTC program. She hasn’t been to basic training. She hasn’t served in active duty, and if you commission her for your little project, she won’t get the opportunity to complete her four  _required_  years of service.” She crossed her arms. “No offense, sir, but you’re making a mistake.” She glared at Miranda, and her sister glared right back, the jealousy almost palpable in the air.  
  
The Counselor picked up on her unsaid ‘by not choosing me over her,’ and he turned to face her, questioning her instead. “You’ve been stationed in Algeria for the last five years, correct?”  
  
“I shipped out as soon as I finished my medical training, yes,” she confirmed. “I made sure to  _finish_  my obligations state-side before I shipped out for my  _required_  service.” Still glaring at Miranda, she hoped her sister was getting the message that she had things to do before she could go gallivanting off to do other projects, military or not.  
  
“And your company was involved in counterterrorism measures there,” the Counselor said, his voice still smooth despite the unvoiced conflict permeating the atmosphere of the room.  
  
It wasn’t a question, and Amanda was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how much he seemed to know about her and her family. She turned her gaze to him and that unreadable face. “Yes.”  
  
“Now, tell me…” The counselor leaned back into the couch, clasping his hands as he formulated his next sentence. “What exactly is it that happened in Algeria that led to you receiving the Marine Corps medal?”  
  
Amanda could feel her sister’s stare, could see her bright green eyes at the periphery of her vision, but she avoided meeting her gaze. It was dawning on her – on both of them – how many secrets they had kept from one another, for a family that claimed to be so close. Trying to find the right words for her story, Amanda cleared her throat a few times before telling the Counselor, “I don’t know exactly how to describe what happened in the official report…”  
  
“You don’t need to use technical language around me,” he reassured her. “I just need the report in your own words.”  
  
“Well, then.” She sighed, taking a seat in an armchair before beginning her story. “Long story short, the plan got shot to hell. My platoon was running a smoke-out mission in the mountains when my squad got detached. Our C.O. had gone with the other officers, so it was me and the ten other guys in Juliet squad. I was the only one with any inkling of what the plan was supposed to be, but I was the medic, and they told me time and again, my ass was  _not_  covered by the Geneva Convention.  
  
“We tried to radio the rest of the platoon, see what was going on, if they were in place, if they could send our C.O. back, but those damn terrorists – you understand, sir,” she said, to cover up her curse. “They were jamming everything. Even some of our basic HUD functions were worthless. All we knew at that point was the basic location of the terrorists and the supposed stations of the rest of our platoon. We were the squad closes to the terrorists, so I made a judgment call.”  
  
She shrugged, pausing to collect her thoughts. “I sent half of our squad to infiltrate the caves, hoping that they would be able to spook the terrorists into leaving or fighting back. The rest of us stayed under cover and provided support. We had more than a few injuries that day, but I was able to keep everyone safe. Even Lando. Got his arm blown off at the elbow when a frag went off too close to him, and I was able to keep him stable until the end of the mission.”  
  
She paused again, wishing she had that drink of water in her hands, fiddling with her ring instead as something to do to keep her mind focused. Both the Counselor and Miranda seemed attentive on her every word, but as interesting as the story was, she didn’t want to tell it for much longer. She didn’t want to remember the smell of blood, the liquid fear running through her veins, the absolute helplessness her squad had felt for those few bleak moments before they had put her plan into action. “We were able to get the terrorists,” she said, as much to reassure herself that everything had ended all right as to force herself to continue telling the story. “India squad came in and scooped them up once we had smoked them out. Our entire platoon only lost two soldiers that day, one from India and one from Kilo, and I was able to treat most of Juliet’s injuries on the spot. No casualties from us on the day.”  
  
“Yes, that confirms the report we received from Sergeant Peterson regarding the whole incident.” Amanda was vaguely disturbed by the fact that this man had accessed her records. She had never meant to brag about that incident to anyone; in fact, she was more than a little ashamed that she had had to take control. But then, to her surprise, he turned right back to Miranda, re-engaging her in conversation. “The offer I mentioned still stands. Are you interested?”  
  
“Excuse me?” Amanda couldn’t help the enraged words from slipping out of her mouth. The Counselor turned back to her, and the look that Miranda was giving her might have been acidic enough to eat through steel. “You’re taking her? I’m the one here who has the Marine Corps medal.”  
  
“I scored high enough on the Stanchion to earn a place at Fort Benning, and they’re also reserving me a place at Fort Sill,” Miranda said, leaning back into the couch and crossing her arms as she gloated at her sister.  
  
They were reserving a place for her at both sniper school and field artillery school? But she could do one better. “I’ve proven my leadership abilities even when I couldn’t fire a shot.”  
  
“You’re just jealous because you know he came for me and not for you,” Miranda said. Amanda knew that if there wasn’t an officer present, her little sister would be making faces at her, sticking out her tongue and sticking her thumbs in her ears to wave her hands around.  
  
“I want you to stay safe and do what you’re supposed to do so you can get married in one piece!” Amanda pointed out. She was going to fight her sister leaving, tooth and nail.  
  
“Girls,” the Counselor said gently, and the atmosphere in the room calmed a little. “It seems that I’ve touched a nerve with my inquiries. If there is anything else you would like to say…”  
  
“I’m going,” Miranda said defiantly, staring at her sister. Amanda knew what she was thinking: how dare you ruin another happy moment for me.  
  
“You’re not going unless I’m coming too,” Amanda answered right back. Regardless of how her sister felt about it, she was going to protect her.  
  
“Then it’s settled.” The Counselor gently clapped his hands together as he rose from the couch. “Congratulations, Private Clearwater, Combat Medic Clearwater, on your acceptance of a role in Project Freelancer. We will have materials to you shortly, so feel free to review them at your leisure. The program will commence in approximately six weeks. I will see you at Freelancer Command then. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s some business I need to see to with Command. Good day to both of you.”  
  
Amanda and her sister watched, open-mouthed, as the officer left the room and exchanged a few brief words with Chris before leaving. Once they knew he was gone, neither of them quite knew what to say. Chris entered the room, smiling brightly. “Well, girls?” she asked.  
  
Amanda was still somewhat in shock. “What did I just agree to?” she asked her hands.  
  
“What just happened?” Miranda asked herself, looking down at her ring.  
  
Chris took the space on the couch where the Counselor had been just moments before. “It sounded like you were both recruited by a top military program. Isn’t that exciting?”  
  
“How do you know about that?”Amanda asked her mother. “Were you listening in?”  
  
“No, I wasn’t.” Then her face changed, and she covered her mouth. “Wait – I mean…”  
  
“You knew about this?” Miranda asked quietly. Chris nodded. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have prepared for something like this…”  
  
“They recruited me, too,” Chris told them. The room was uncomfortably silent, and Amanda wondered once again how many secrets a small family of three could keep. “I didn’t want you two to worry, so I kept it to myself. They said they needed me to keep you safe, that they had to take all of us…”  
  
“It’s okay, Mom,” Amanda told her, rising out of her chair to hug her mother. “You didn’t mean to make us upset. We’ll get through this together,” she reassured her. “I’ll even try to keep Miranda safe.”  
  
“Or Miranda can keep herself safe,” her sister grumbled, but a moment later she, too, had joined the hug.  
  
They were trying to stick together, to tough out everything as a team, but keeping secrets had led them here, to being surprised and ambushed by a mysterious officer wanting to recruit them all for an unclear program. Amanda disengaged from the group hug first, wondering aloud, “What is this Project Freelancer that the Counselor got us to join?”  
  
“I’m not really sure,” Chris admitted. “It’s supposed to be some kind of tie-in with the SPARTAN program, I think, but using established soldiers instead of building them from scratch. I suppose it’s an honor that we’ve all been chosen.”  
  
“Yeah,” Miranda sighed wistfully. Amanda looked over to see her gazing at her new engagement ring again. “Think about it. I just got engaged twice in the same day! Oh, I have to call Jimmy and tell him the good news…”  
  
“You do that,” Amanda said, shaking her head and smiling. Miranda was too flighty for her own good sometimes, and it was a good thing that she would also be going to the program to keep an eye on her. “Can we order Chinese?” she asked Chris.  
  
“I guess so,” Chris said with a smile. “We do have something to celebrate, after all.”  
  
Meanwhile, down the street from their condo, a Pelican was landing in the middle of a cul-de-sac, its exhaust sending litter from the street scattering in all directions. Inside the cargo bay, two other officers were waiting while the Counselor climbed in. “Well, sir?” one of the other officers asked him. “Was your mission successful?”  
  
“We’ve recruited the Clearwaters,” he announced. “Send them their information right away.”  
  
The other officer, who was holding a clipboard, crossed out two of the names on his list. “Did your strategy work, sir?” he asked.  
  
“I have to admit, I didn’t think Combat Medic Clearwater would take the bait at first, but my instincts were correct. The two share a strong sibling rivalry, but the older sister is very protective of the younger. With their innate skills and their sibling bond, they will prove to be good test subjects for our program.”  
  
“Who’s next on our list?” the officer with the clipboard asked.  
  
“The Liangs, then the Fitzroys. Then we start with Corporal Reynolds.”  
  
“Sir, shouldn’t we be recruiting the Gileses before we start on the individuals?” the empty-handed officer asked.  
  
“We need the genetically linked subjects before we can recruit anyone else,” the Counselor said briefly. His tone indicated that the discussion was closed.  
  
“Well then. There isn’t any time to waste,” the officer with the clipboard said. “Ramirez, take us out of here.”  
  
The Pelican picked up from the ground slowly, leaving almost no trace behind except for one household left in upheaval. The Counselor’s work here was done.


	2. Ki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brother and sister are interrupted at work by a uniformed man. Why did the brother agree to a contract with him without telling his sister? Can she forgive him for long enough to accept a chance at her lifelong dream?

“One, two.”  
  
With each of George’s counts, Grace brought her staff up to parry his obvious blows. Even though she was putting all her strength into her hits, she knew he wouldn’t feel any of it. He was huge, easily taller than seven feet, and broad with muscle; most people she knew compared him to an ox. He had a good two feet and almost two hundred pounds on her slight frame. Next to him, she must have looked almost like a child.  
  
“One, two, three.”  
  
Her braid whipped around as she moved her staff to block his again; the thick coil of it thumped against her back as she defended herself. She knew that they were busy choreographing a routine to show off for the children during the next AsiaCon, but sometimes she just wanted her brother to take her seriously and make her fight him at his true potential.  
  
“One, two, three, four, again, two, three, four.”  
  
This time, the complicated footwork was added, and they began to circle one another. With the temperature in the studio climbing due to a broken air conditioner and a late May heat wave, sweat was beginning to run down George’s bare chest. Grace could feel her fringe sticking to her forehead, and her feet slipped a little on the gym mat they used for padding. Her sports bra and compression shorts were going to get soaked if they kept this up for much longer.  
  
“Five, six, and flip over me, there you go…”  
  
It was an easy maneuver for her to do; her body naturally wanted to become airborne. Her acrobatic skill was one of the few advantages she had over him in combat, along with her flexibility. Of course, most of it was just for show, and she knew that if he was actually trying to fight her, she would have had to stay lower to the ground, trying to get him to topple from below. Their dance picked up speed as they went, both of them knowing the moves engrained in their memories since early childhood, and their synchronicity just made the dance more impressive.  
  
Of course, Grace knew better. There was something on George’s mind. She could tell in the way his eyes kept darting towards the door, how his grip kept shifting on his staff, how his movement was more conservative than usual. So, to get him out of his funk, she deliberately took a misstep and rapped him on the shoulder. Her staff made a thwacking sound as wood hit skin, but she knew that it wouldn’t even bruise him.  
  
He turned back to her, attention focused once again on their routine. The tempo sped up like they had planned it, but George was still going on autopilot. Usually, he looked forward to sparring with her, even though he had such a size advantage. But right now, it was like he was just waiting for something, going through the motions until he got to something truly difficult.  
  
Then, a sudden noise startled both of them, and they looked towards the entrance to the studio. The door had just slammed shut, and a stranger had stepped inside while they had been sparring. Grace wiped her forehead clean of sweat, making her fringe stand on end, as she tried to figure out what kind of uniform the stranger was wearing. His face was unreadable, giving her no indication of why he was there, but he looked like a high-ranking military officer, and that never meant anything good. “ _Gaoyang zhong de guyang,_  what do you think he wants?” she cursed in Mandarin.  
  
“Just let me do the talking,  _dong ma_?” George answered her in Mandarin. His stance relaxed and he switched to speaking English as he stepped closer to the stranger. “Welcome to the Liang dojo,” he said, his booming voice staying professional. “Is there something I can help you with?”  
  
“I was looking for you,” the officer admitted. “Both of you, actually,” he corrected himself, pointedly looking at Grace. “Is there someplace we can sit and have a brief chat?”  
  
George and Grace looked at one another, then looked back at the officer. She had to remind herself to keep her mouth shut as George said, “Why don’t we just duck into my office and see what we can do for you…”  
  
As they walked out of the workout room, Grace hissed at her brother, “I thought we had already finished our service?” She still spoke in Mandarin; she didn’t want the officer to know what she was saying.  
  
“ _Bizui!_  Will you just let me handle this?” he yelled back at her, still in Mandarin. He was tense, or he wouldn’t have told her to shut up quite so harshly. Did he know something about this that she didn’t? She looked to the officer for a clue, but his face didn’t betray any of his thoughts; in fact, he seemed entirely nonplussed with the gratuitous foreign language being spoken around him. Grace’s nerves heightened – was it possible that he could actually understand everything they had been saying? She put forth more of a conscious effort, knowing she needed to keep her mouth shut from now on; with such a mysterious entity, it was best to observe before attacking their weak points.  
  
Once the three of them reached George’s office, he invited them to take the seats in front of his desk. Grace was angry at being demoted – she was the co-owner of the dojo, after all – but she scaled down her displeasure to a glower aimed at George. He was already focusing on the officer, though, or perhaps he was deliberately ignoring her. When he spoke, he was forcing politeness. “What is it that you need, sir?”  
  
“We spoke of a contract when I first got in contact with you a few weeks ago. I’m here to ask you and your sister a few questions before I put my offer on the table.” His voice was honey-smooth, easing a little of the tension George had been broadcasting in the room.  
  
Grace was too shocked at what the officer had said to stay silent, though. " _Qingwa cao de liumang,_  you signed me up for something? Again?” she asked George in Mandarin.  
  
The officer turned to her – did he understand what she had said? – and before George could answer her, he asked, “Private Liang, do you speak English?”  
  
“I’m fluent,” she said tersely, crossing her arms and glaring at her brother. Just because she reverted to Mandarin when she was upset didn’t mean she couldn’t communicate. She was choosing to keep the officer in the dark as to how she was feeling, and it didn’t hurt that she could get away with cursing a blue streak in front of brass without getting into trouble.  
  
“Then I’d like to ask you a few questions. Answer as honestly and clearly as you can.” The officer relaxed in his chair, appearing to think for a moment before continuing. “You and your brother have been stationed together in every instance of your deployment, is that correct?”  
  
“Yes,” she said. “We were together in Azerbaijan and Manchuria.”  
  
“Can you describe for me the kinds of things your squad was involved in?”  
  
“Mostly anti-terrorist action,” she said. It was a lie, but the officer didn’t need to know that.  
  
George was about to give it away, with the way his eyes widened as he listened to her. “ _Meimei_ ,” he said, his tone a warning.  
  
“If you want me to go along with your  _niushi_  offer, you’re going to let me tell the story, and you’re going to let me tell it my way,” she barked back at him in Mandarin. Once again, the officer seemed totally nonplussed, but she felt she needed to offer an explanation. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting to talk about where we were assigned.”  
  
“No apologies needed,” he reassured her. “Can you tell me what some of your duties were while you were stationed in Azerbaijan?”  
  
“My brother and I were both on the front lines.” Another lie, but she at least had to make herself look good. “We were the go-to people in our squad for when things needed done and needed done fast. Always the first to respond to a call, and we got a lot of ‘em.”  
  
“And in Manchuria?”  
  
“We were mostly cover fire for covert missions. I actually apprehended a few terrorists on the street myself.” As far as she was concerned, she could never lie too much, especially about her military experience.  
  
She and her brother had both been stationed in Azerbaijan and in Manchuria, but that was where her story stopped molding to reality. Truth be told, she had hated being in the same squad as her brother, but they seemed to want to force the two of them together since they were twins. It was even more embarrassing when considering the fact that Grace wasn’t exactly the best soldier in the Marines. It had always been her brother who had taken a leadership role, who had proved his mettle in tough times, and it had always been her who had been babysat on the field, who had been deemed incapable of providing any support on her own.  
  
The officer didn’t need to know any of that, though. As far as she was concerned, he was going to treat her on an equal footing with her brother, regardless of the fact that she was nowhere near as lethal as he was. And if she had to lie in order to convince him, then she was going to make it sound like the absolute truth. The best part about all of it was that he was buying the whole thing. “So how long were you two on active duty?”  
  
“We fulfilled our four years in Azerbaijan before we were called upon again for two more years in Manchuria.” At least that wasn’t a lie; the bare facts never were.  
  
“And tell me, Private Liang, how many twin studies have you two taken part in?”  
  
“ _O, zhe zhen shi ge kuaile de jinzhan_ ,” George said, losing his patience.  
  
“I think my brother wants to tell you about that,” Grace told the officer, looking at her twin with a wide, innocent-looking grin on her face.  
  
He glared back at her, obviously pained, and Grace knew she had struck a nerve. He had hated every single study they had ever done together, even at the same time as he had told her that all of them had been necessary. If they were going to be serving their country, the least they could do was provide some kind of service to psychologists studying gene markers for personality traits. Though they were fraternal twins, the studies had still used them as an intermediate between identical twins and randomly selected individuals. “Twelve,” he finally answered the officer, sounding ashamed.  
  
“And what did these tests usually entail?” the officer asked.  
  
Grace had trapped her brother in a difficult spot, and it was almost fun to watch him squirm as he told the officer everything he wanted to know. Grace, for her part, had loved the twin studies; it was one case in which being different from her brother was actually considered okay. “They were aggression studies, mostly,” George was explaining. “Taking levels of adrenaline, matching up gene codifiers, keeping track of reaction reflexes when faced with a threat. Any of the others we did were geared towards synchronicity.”  
  
“I’m also told you scored rather high on the synchronous tests,” the officer said.  
  
Grace let her mouth hang open as she stared at the officer. She had been sure that the results of those studies had been kept not only confidential, but also anonymous. How was it that this man had the ability to access these private things? While she was trying to find words for how outraged she was at the invasion of her privacy, George confirmed the officer’s information: “Yes, that’s right.”  
  
“That’s a very unique connection that the both of you have.” The officer leaned back in his chair. “Have these abilities been tested on the battlefield?”  
  
“They have not,” George admitted.  
  
“Excellent.” Then the officer turned to Grace. “Your brother already knows why I’m here and has already consented to my offer. I apologize if you feel you’ve been left in the dark. I am the counselor of a new experimental military project set up to explore the kinds of exceptional qualities such as the synchronicity you and your brother share. In order for us to study your synchronicity, though, I will need you to join the project alongside your brother.” Grace looked to her brother – had he really consented to yet another twin study? What could have changed his mind? “You seem to have a few questions,” the Counselor interrupted her train of thought.  
  
“Yes,” she admitted. “This is another twin study, right? What exactly would you be studying?”  
  
For an instant, the Counselor seemed to look concerned, but his explanation to her was as smooth as the rest of his speech. “We’re concerned with the integration of artificial intelligence with soldiers on the battlefield. Your synchronous behavior would indicate that the human-AI combination, in your cases, would be smooth and seamless.”  
  
Grace brought a hand up to her mouth to hide the fact that it was hanging open. So the rumors had been right – they were going to integrate some form of AI with even common soldiers like her! She had often daydreamed of having a program to assist her aim or make her stronger. If she had one, she’d finally be able to compete with her brother on an equal footing. But there was one more thing she needed to be sure of before she would assent to this. “And you’re sure you have to take both of us?”  
  
“Those are the conditions of my offer,” the Counselor confirmed.  
  
Grace sat back in her chair and had a hand over her forehead, pushing her fringe up, as she thought. One of the last things she wanted was to be deployed again to active duty, and the absolute last thing she needed right now was to be compared to her brother yet again. At the same time, she and George would have to be deployed together in order for her to keep up the masquerade of her own competence. And they would finally let her have an artificial intelligence of her own…  
  
This time, it was George who interrupted her thoughts. “Give him an answer,  _meimei_ ,” he snapped at her in Mandarin.  
  
“Would you stop calling me that?” she yelled back in Mandarin.  
  
“I’m sorry if I’m taking you a bit by surprise,” the Counselor apologized. “If you need more time to think about this offer, I can give you a few weeks until I need an answer from you.”  
  
“I’m in,” she said, glaring at her brother with her arms crossed over her bare stomach.  
  
“Excellent,” the Counselor said. “I’ll be sending you the information for this program shortly. The experiment starts in six weeks; I look forward to seeing both of you there. Unfortunately, I can’t stay to talk any longer; I have urgent business with Command. Good day to you both, and I will see you again soon.”  
  
Grace stood at the same time as her brother, ready to show the officer to the door; maybe they really were that synchronous, Grace thought to herself, or maybe it was just a reflex. Before she knew it, though, the Counselor had left the two of them alone in the muggy warmth of their dojo, and Grace was more confused than ever. “You want to explain to me why you signed me up for something again?” she asked George, hands on her hips.  
  
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said tersely.  
  
“We always have a choice,” she pointed out. “And you chose to do this. I know you hate the twin studies, so why the hell—“  
  
“They’re going to close down the dojo unless we go,” he cut her off.  
  
Grace was momentarily stunned. “They threatened…” She unconsciously grabbed her braid as she thought, worrying the tail of it with her small fingers. “Why would they want to close us down? This place has been in our family for generations.”  
  
“And we’re not here to run it when we’re deployed,” George pointed out.  
  
“So they want to deploy us again? That makes no sense.” She frowned as she looked at George’s face. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”  
  
“Do I have to let you know every single thought going through my head?” he complained. “Can’t it just be good enough that I found us a way to keep the dojo and still do our service to our country?”  
  
“We already finished our service.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “One of these days, you’re going to tell me exactly how they got to you – and you’re going to tell me the truth.”  
  
And for the first time that day, Grace saw the smallest smile appear on her brother’s face. “You can always tell when I’m lying, yet I can never tell with you unless I know what you’re referring to.” He picked up his staff from where he had left it, hefting it experimentally in his hands.  
  
She smiled back, picking up her own staff and twirling it a few times to get the balance back in her hands. “Life just isn’t fair,” she remarked. Thankfully, it was that life had somehow reimbursed her with a skill set to rival her brother’s. He was lethal, but he was too kind, too trusting. She couldn’t put a dent in anyone, but she could disarm them; she knew how to tell a good story and she knew when she was being lied to. But as her brother’s staff came down on hers again, all of that afternoon’s encounter began to slip out of her mind as she fell into the familiar steps of their routine.  
  
Meanwhile, the Counselor was stepping into the Pelican just outside their dojo. The huge vehicle was taking up most of the spaces in the strip mall parking lot, and civilians were pointing and staring at the unusual sight. The two officers were, as usual, waiting for the Counselor, and the one with the clipboard paused with his pencil to his papers. “I can assume that we have the Liangs?” he asked.  
  
“They’re recruited,” the Counselor confirmed. “They’ll need their information, Lucas, so you’ll need to wire it to them as soon as we’re back at Command.”  
  
The officer without a clipboard nodded to show he understood, but frowned. “We’re not going back to Command immediately, then,” he inferred.  
  
“Ramirez, take us to Brooklyn,” the Counselor called up into the cockpit of the Pelican. “The Fitzroys need to know the offer I have on the table for them.”  
  
“Right away, sir,” a female voice said, scratchy over the comm.  
  
“Sir, you do realize that the girl was swearing practically the whole time you were talking with her, right?” The officer without a clipboard removed an earpiece from his ear and pulled out a datapad from his pocket. “Here’s a translation of everything they said. It’s spur of the moment, but it’s all I have.”  
  
“I won’t be needing that,” the Counselor said in his smooth voice. “The important part was, they both agreed to our project. That’s all that matters – her vitriol is insignificant.”  
  
And there was a hiss from the thrusters as they took off from the parking lot of the strip mall, followed by the louder noise of the engines as they changed course in the air to head towards New York City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Mandarin was taken from notes on either Firefly episodes or Serenity. Usually, you can pick up most of it from context, but in case you want to know exactly how angry these two are at each other, here’s the meaning of each phrase (along with pronunciation).  
> 1\. gaoyang zhong de guyang (gao yang jong duh goo yang) – motherless goats of all motherless goats  
> 2\. dong ma? (dong ma) – understand?  
> 3\. bizui (bi zui) – shut up  
> 4\. qingwa cao de liumang (ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahng) – frog-humping son-of-a-bitch  
> 5\. meimei (mei mei) – little sister  
> 6\. niushi (niou se) – cow dung  
> 7\. o, zhe zhen shi ge kuaile de jinzhan (oh, juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan) – oh, this is a happy development [sarcastically]


	3. Bringing a Gun to a Word Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One brother’s due to serve again; he isn’t surprised when an officer comes to let him know his country needs him. The other brother, though, is asked to tag along for the ride, much to his confusion.

“Yo, Simon!”  
  
It was Randall’s voice, coming from the back stockroom, and from the tone alone Simon couldn’t tell if he was yelling about something good or something Very, Very Bad. So he set down his pistol on the counter keeping him from the rest of the gun range, removed his earplugs and eye protectors, and made his way to the back. “The hell do you want now?” he yelled.  
  
“Found it.” And as Simon rounded the corner, he could see that his younger brother was holding a box of specially-sized ammunition, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”  
  
“’Zat for the G36? How’d you…” But as per usual, it was bad to ask Randall questions about these types of things; the scandalous wink his brother gave him told him all he needed to know. “I’ll get her out, just gimme a minute.”  
  
They kept her in the back of the storage room, underneath a few crates of weapons nobody bothered asking them for any more. It was an old rifle; the most recently it had been used was three hundred years ago. One of the perks of owning a gun range, though, was that Simon Fitzroy had access to an astounding number of firearms. He had picked this one up a few months ago, and with some fiddling around with parts, he had been able to make the action as smooth as butter again. The problem was, neither of the two brothers could figure out if it was legal for them to own it, and the ammunition was a pain to find.  
  
So Simon pushed away the crates on top of the rifle’s briefcase-like storage compartment, and flicking the combinations by the handle, he was eventually able to flick the levers and open the case. He sighed when he saw that the gun was still in place, like it ought to be. “Leah…” He made sure to hold her carefully as he took her out of the foam padding, and he heard the telltale sound of Randall loading a clip with the ammunition he had found. “How many rounds we got?”  
  
“Only a hundred. Clip only takes twenty. How many you want?”  
  
“All of them.” Simon stood, closing the case with his foot, and held the rifle down at his side as he walked towards his brother. “No, seriously, at least three clips.”  
  
“Nuh-uh. Not fair. Who got the ammo?” And there was that shit-eating grin again.  
  
Simon huffed in return, shaking his head – then had to jerk his fringe back out of his face. He always forgot to have it cut, but he didn’t want it so short he would be confused with his brother. “Fine. We’ll rock-paper-scissors it.” He folded the gun into the crook of his elbow. “On shoot?”  
  
“One-two-three-shoot.” Randall threw scissors.  
  
Simon threw rock. “Randy, always with the scissors,” he muttered, unable to keep a straight face as he pounded his fist over his brother’s fingers.  
  
“Fine, fine. Best two out of three.”  
  
“One-two-three-shoot.” Simon threw rock, and Randall threw scissors. “Ooh, look who’s gettin’ three full clips with this baby, hoo-ah!”  
  
“Simon, what did I tell you about saying that?” But he handed over three oversized clips anyway, and Simon put his right hand back in the grip of the rifle as he left the back storage room and headed back for the range.  
  
But before he could get back to the range, he heard the familiar crack of the pistol he had been using before Randall interrupted him. He looked back at his brother, and what scared him most about the whole situation was the suddenly stone-cold serious look that was on his face. At that moment, he looked like a true Marine, pissed off as all hell and ready to kick some ass. After all, that was  _his_  pistol Simon had been using for practice, and someone else was touching it. “I’ll go see what’s going on,” Simon said quickly, shoving Leah and the clips into his brother’s hands for something to keep him occupied before he possibly went berserk.  
  
When he rounded the corner to go back into the driving range, though, the sight he saw was enough to chill even his blood. A dark-skinned stranger in a gray uniform he couldn’t place was holding Randall’s pistol out towards the end of the gun range; as he came closer, he could see that the single shot had gone through the bullseye of the target above the one Simon had been using. Who the hell was this guy, and what gave him the authority to use another man’s firearms without asking? And, more to Simon’s interest, how had he become that accurate from that distance? “Is there something I can help you with?” Simon asked the stranger, not bothering to keep the disgust out of his voice.  
  
“This is a very nice pistol you have here, soldier,” the stranger said, his voice butter-smooth as he set the firearm down gently on the counter in front of him. “An M6G. Not many of these around – a good choice, up-sized and with the nickel finish.”  
  
Simon was not impressed with this man’s flattery. “I’d take the compliment, but it’s not mine,” he said coldly. “It’s my brother’s. And he’s very  _protective_  of it.”  
  
“My apologies; I took you for Randall.”  
  
“Apology not accepted. Sir.” Simon didn’t care if this man was an officer or not; shooting another man’s gun without his permission was irresponsible at best and emasculating at worst. And he even had the gall to mistake him for his brother. He wanted this goon out of here, and fast, so they could close up the range and have a go with the G36 before their mother expected them home for family dinner. The officer looked at him, seeming to be a little puzzled, so Simon figured he’d spell it out for the poor guy. “Listen, state your business and then get out. I don’t need anyone in here who isn’t going to observe proper gun safety, officer or not.”  
  
But then, of course, Randall had to interrupt. “Who the fuck are you talking to?” he shouted from the back room. Simon turned to look over his shoulder, and sure enough, his brother was still holding the G36 and the ammo – two items they definitely did not need to be showing to military brass who could have them by their balls if they were found with illegal paraphernalia. The look on his face when he saw the officer standing there, though, was priceless. “Oh – sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to curse – don’t mind me, I was just…” And he looked down at the rifle and the clips in his arms, his expression somewhere between horrified and enraged.  
  
“There’s no need to apologize. You can be as informal as you wish around me.” And as Randall dumped Leah and the clips into another of the shooting stalls, Simon turned back around to face the officer. Who was this guy? He was pretty sure no officer would let a Marine get away with that amount of disrespect. The way he was ignoring the glaringly obvious model of the G36 meant that he wasn’t here to bust them on acquiring it, so then why was he here? Had Randall done something again that needed to be wiped off his record discreetly?  
  
“I’m sorry, sir – I mean, uh, yeah, sure,” Simon heard Randall stutter as he came back out from the stall. “What is it that you want, again?” So Randall didn’t know this guy. It certainly didn’t make him feel any more comfortable with the situation.  
  
“I was hoping that I could talk briefly with you and your brother about an opportunity that should broaden your horizons significantly.” The stranger’s voice was still smooth. It was strange to Simon that he was unruffled by anything he had seen so far.  
  
“Uh, sure… the office is just back here, if you want to follow me…” At least Randall seemed calm. Perhaps Simon really was overreacting; even if he was, it wouldn’t hurt to give this guy the benefit of the doubt for a few minutes while he told Randall whatever it was that he wanted to say.  
  
The ‘office’ was just a cramped closet next to their storage room. There was a desk, a computer, and a telephone, but not much else to distinguish it from their front desk besides extra boxes from the storage room or posters advertizing gun shows or shooting contests. Of course, they had never gotten around to buying office furniture, seeing as they didn’t spend much time back here and preferred to do all their work through the front desk, so the three of them were going to have to stand awkwardly throughout this entire conversation. “Sorry the place is such a mess.”  
  
“It’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you felt comfortable in your privacy regarding this conversation.” At least the officer didn’t seem to have a problem with it. For his part, though, Simon was embarrassed. He should have thought, after so long running the place, that someone was going to want to have a private business chat somewhere besides the front counter.  
  
“So. What is it that you need, sir?” Randall asked the officer.  
  
“I just need to ask you and your brother a few questions,” the officer clarified in the same smooth, calm tones he had been using before. When he was acting so reasonable, it was hard for Simon to remember that he had acted so strangely when he had first seen him. “First of all, can you tell me when your leave is over?”  
Randall looked a little uncomfortable for a moment. “Sir,” he started to say.  
  
“Please,” the officer interrupted. “There’s no need for formality.”  
  
“Right.” Randall took a deep breath before he continued. “My company’s all on month leave right now. In three weeks we’re all heading back to Fort Lejeune before we ship out again.”  
  
“Excellent. This matches up with the information I have from Sergeant Gunderson.”  
  
“You spoke to my sergeant.” Simon knew that Randall had to have made a huge effort to keep the question inflection out of his sentence.  
  
“My hope was that you would be available for… a project. I have ties with Gunderson, and he praised you quite highly.”  
  
“Really, now.” Randall’s voice was sarcastic, and looking over at him, Simon could see that familiar shit-eating grin on his face. Though Randy had never told him what he had done to earn so much praise, with a look like that, it couldn’t have been anything good.  
  
“Yes,” the officer confirmed. “I was hoping to corroborate his reports of the incident with yours. Could you describe to me how, exactly, you saved his life?”  
  
Simon didn’t think Randall’s grin could have become any wider, but it did. “Honestly, I’ve told Sarge this so many times: I was just doing what any other soldier would’ve done.”  
  
And then Simon started hearing the most unbelievable story coming out of his brother’s mouth – something about Greece, and a female ambassador who needed a lift, and bombs planted in the road. Every sentence seemed more outlandish than the rest, and he knew that he must have been staring at his brother like he was insane, because… wow. He had never known that being a Marine would involve pulling stunts like that as part of everyday duty.  
  
“And you’re sure you were the one to ask Donaldson to pull over?” the officer asked Randall at the end of his story.  
  
“That’s how it happened. I remember telling him I knew there was something off about it. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but I was right, and he was able to disarm them pretty quickly. He, ah, he said if I hadn’t’ve said anything, we would’ve been splattered all over the road.”  
  
“The action Sergeant Gunderson claims saved his life was your call of ‘Get down.’ Do you remember when you said that?”  
  
For once, Randall looked nervous; he was shifting his weight from foot to foot, apparently hesitant to answer. “Must’ve been when I saw… nah, that can’t be right. We didn’t see ‘em until the rocket blew up Sarge’s Warthog. Ya know, I don’t really know what it was that made me say that, but I was right about that, too, just like I was right about the roadside bombs.” Randall looked back at the officer. “That all you wanted to ask me about?”  
  
“Yes. Now, Simon, if I could just ask you a few questions…” Oh, great, now he was going to be in the spotlight. “Can you explain to me exactly what it is that you do?”  
  
Simon didn’t trust this guy, and he was determined to keep his answers short and to the point. “I own this shop.”  
  
“How long has this been your business?”  
  
“Dad passed away a few years back. Before that, I was a co-owner. Signed myself on after I graduated college, which would be ten years ago now.” Had it really been that long? But counting back, he knew it was true. Man, either he was getting old or Randall was just catching up to him in work experience.  
  
“Was there any particular incentive to you being a co-owner rather than another employee?”  
  
Again with the pushy questions. Simon wasn’t impressed. “There were guns I needed for my competitions that I couldn’t get any other way but through Dad. He didn’t know why I needed what I needed, and he knew that I needed a job, so next thing I know, I’m the one setting everyone’s hours.”  
  
The officer still wanted more information out of him, though. “What kinds of competitions, exactly, did you need these guns for?”  
  
Simon’s gut response was ‘none of your business,’ but obviously this man needed to know. What disconcerted him most about this whole conversation, though, was that the officer didn’t seem to be going by any script. Whoever this guy was, he was good. “I’m sorry, I should have said something,” he said finally, trying to put as much sarcasm into his ‘apology’ as he could. “I’m a sports shooter. I shoot anything I can get my hands on, really. You may have heard of me, I’m rather good at what I do.”  
  
The officer actually had his first facial expression Simon could see: the corners of his mouth turned up slightly for a few seconds, but then the smile was gone the next time Simon blinked. “I believe I have heard your name, yes. Is it from the Olympic team, or…?”  
  
“I’ve never tried out for the Olympic team. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m not good at the events, I’ve just had no interest in the committee’s politics – or in the events themselves. Usually I train for the NRA military service rifle competitions.”  
  
Once again, the officer sounded pleased. “Would you say that you have experience with military rifles?”  
  
“I would.” It was nice to brag, for once. Not many people in his life knew that he was so into guns, and most of the time, his success was his secret.  
  
“And do you have much experience with practical shooting courses?” the officer asked.  
  
“Yes,” Simon affirmed. “I actually helped to set up a course about five miles from here that’s affiliated with our range. I don’t usually compete at the national level, but the last time I did I earned top marks.”  
  
“Excellent news.” Then the officer clapped his hands together quietly, signaling a change in the conversation. “Both of you have done well in answering my questions, but now, I’d like to get to the real reason why I’ve come here today.  
  
“I am currently serving as a counselor for a new project developed by the UNSC. Our project hopes to take the best of what we can find out in the community and remold them in the image of the finest soldiers imaginable. It is invitation only; I hope you understand the honor we do you in selecting you for our program.” He was looking at Simon as he spoke.  
  
And he wasn’t buying it. “Counselor,” he said, interrupting the speech, “I’m sure that it’s a great honor and all, but I’m just a civilian marksman. There isn’t much you can do with me.”  
  
“On the contrary, Simon,” the Counselor said, his voice still smooth. “You’re exceptionally well-skilled; in fact, the Director asked for you specifically. There will be other civilians in the program, and most of them will need training to come to your level.”  
  
Great. He’d be babysitting a bunch of groupies. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else?”  
  
“You and your brother are necessary to the program’s success. Randall, do you have any objections to your inclusion?”  
  
When Simon looked over at his brother, he was shocked to see him so composed. Was this what Marines training did to someone? He didn’t seem to be batting an eyelash at having his fate chosen for him. “If Sarge is all right with my reassignment…” he started saying.  
  
“I’ve already spoken to him about it,” the Counselor said. “He’s already given you any permissions he can – along with his recommendation.”  
  
“Then I just need to know when to report,” Randall said.  
  
“Good.” Then the Counselor turned to Simon. “Any objections on your part?”  
  
He thought for a few moments, luxuriating in the awkward silence that was now filling the back room. On the one hand, it was mildly creepy that this officer seemed to know so much about him and his personal habits, and that he had been chosen out of a wide field of both soldiers and civilians to take part in this program. On the other hand, Randall seemed completely okay with it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to take this leap after all. “I just need to know what kind of guns I’d be working with.” It was as close to a ‘yes’ as he would allow himself to say.  
  
“Standard UNSC, for the most part,” the Counselor clarified. “But if there’s anything in particular you’d like us to provide for you, I’ll see what I can do about it.”  
  
And Simon allowed himself to smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.


End file.
